Month: August 2017

God doesn’t respond to Job’s misery with explanations or dismissive comments. Instead, he calls Job’s attention to the confusing wonder of the world we live in. He leads Job from the mystery of his suffering to the mysteries of creation, from puzzle to puzzle, from wonder to wonder. And as Chesterton puts it, “The secret of God is a bright and not a sad one.” In the skipping of mountain goats, the thunder of snow, and the crashing of oceans, there’s a wink and smile, a God who is joyful and even playful in the midst of the madness. While we may not be able to comprehend it, there is—at least to God—sensibility and an order. The universe is a Cosmos after all, and Chesterton tells us its maker has a smile and a sense of humor, even as he reminds us of our smallness in its midst. He calls our attention from the midst of sorrows to the broader world where sorrows are one mystery among many.

Making: I’m on a knitting hiatus for the time being, so nothing, really.

Cooking: I’m crashing at a friend’s during all this rain here in Houston and we had some pretty decent tacos the other night–ground beef, plus onions and peppers and mushrooms cooked in the beef juice. Otherwise we’re eating a lot of pb&j and chips and trail mix, like college students.

Drinking: Coffee and water. Drank the last Diet Coke yesterday.

Reading: The news.

Trawling: Social media, for more news and to check in on folks.

Wanting: This effing rain to stop, y’all. And also to get out and see what the damage is.

Looking: For something to read besides the news. And for ways to help.

Deciding: What to get at the grocery store when we can get out. There’s an HEB around the corner from the house, so we can walk there, but their operating hours are limited because folks can’t get out to work.

Listening: A podcast on the Enneagram called Typology (my friend is currently learning more about me than she bargained for since this is an episode about 4s).

Buying: I bought a giant bag of trail mix the other day; there is a pack of ramen and a bag of beef jerky sitting in my car, which is parked in a garage five blocks away….

Watching: We marathoned the first season of Broadchurch the other night; we’ve had Friends and Gilmore Girls on intermittently, too.

Marveling: Grateful that this street is relatively dry and still has power and that I get to hang out with my friend mostly worry-free. There are so many folks who don’t have this right now.

Cringing: Sinus pressure sucks, y’all.

Needing: See “wanting”: please pray the rain stops, soon.

Questioning: Not much right now, which is kind of interesting. I’m grateful to have a pretty solid theology of suffering during stuff like this.

Smelling: All the rain in the air.

Wearing: Right now? PJ pants (they have pockets!) and a Baylor t-shirt I got for $2 at Goodwill.

Thanks for all the love and support that came from that last post. We’re all obviously in a pretty tough season right now and I have no idea where I’m going to end up church-wise. I’m also working through some issues that have risen in my own heart over the past few weeks that I didn’t realize were there, and that’s less than fun. But I trust in the good hand and the good heart of God, and where He is leading I want to go.

It’s a strange thing, too–I feel like, right here at the end of my church existing, I’m starting to relearn what it means to love Jesus and love people. Not that I didn’t learn that while I’ve been here, but the past few years I think I’ve forgotten, for a number of reasons. (See also: Issues.)

We’re all going to be okay. Some of us aren’t right now, though, and I hate that for them. (I hate that for you, if you’re reading this and you’re one of those folks.) So please keep praying for us, if you’re the kind that prays.

This is what happens sometimes: You plead with God for something for years and years, and He keeps letting you ask until finally, painfully, He says “no.” I don’t pretend to understand the mechanics of this, or to have some hidden insight into why God does this (or does anything). I do know this: The “no” is not because He doesn’t love us, and neither is the drawn-out asking.

My church‘s last public service is next Sunday. After nearly thirteen years of existence and prayers for growth and health and for His kingdom to come to Houston through our being there, we’re closing. We voted about it this morning, after about a month of discussions and real, gut-punched grief.

This is the end of my having been a member of a church for nine years, of having worked for said church for three years and some change. This is God’s gracious and terrible “no” after having said “yes” to so many other things.

There’s much that could be said here, and there are stories around that are not mine to tell. What is my story to tell is this: While my church has been a source of love and healing to me, for the past few years it’s also been a cause for anxiety and sadness, and a great deal of me is breathing a sigh of relief. We’re not closing because of sin or disunity or anything like that, which is a small miracle in and of itself. The choice was made by people I trust, and I believe God is using this to send us out into places where we can grow and flourish in the gifts that He’s given us for the benefit of the church in ways we’ve not been able to.

But that being said, this is still a heartbreaking thing, and there are people I love who are very upset about it, and I want to give them room to be upset about it. It’s going to be pretty hard for a while, even after our last service.

So pray for us, if you’re so inclined–pray for healing of hearts, pray that my pastor and his family can find a place they can settle into, pray that we all find new churches where Christ is exalted. And pray that we will continue to love each other well.